Thursday, August 27, 2015

I've never had a great memory, but this time of year, my disinterest in the past is purposeful.

In three days, it will be a decade since the most powerful hurricane of my lifetime struck not only America, but also the place I grew up. Landmarks along the entire Mississippi Gulf Coast were demolished. Beautiful homes are now slabs. Sites of childhood memories are gestured to with the opening remark, "Well, that used to be..."

Ten years is a milestone. I get that. Many places have come a long way, and some haven't, and there's a lot to talk about. Also, as sick as it is, people love a tragedy. Why else would some weirdos in New Orleans have profited off Katrina tours in the Lower Ninth post-storm?

Yes, Katrina affected many people and places I love, but I didn't even live on the Mississippi Gulf Coast when the storm hit, so I'm not sure why I'm still such a baby about seeing footage and hearing stories. But I am oddly grateful when I hear that others have similar feelings.

I visited New York City a few years after 9/11, and still vividly remember the rawness on some residents' faces when someone asked about their experiences around that day.

(No. I'm not even trying to compare Katrina to a deliberate act of terror by a person or group. And I am certainly not insinuating I will ever in any way understand what NYC residents felt that day or in those years to follow.)

But a horrible thing marred and scarred and tore up my beautiful home, and it's painful to relive. Every time. And when I see the concrete slabs that were once foundations of antebellum homes, I want to stand and tell all the people, "This isn't just a vacant lot! Something beautiful was here and an actual disaster ruined it! People aren't being lazy. They had to get back to work!"

I appreciate empathy and sympathy and well wishes for affected areas. I do. And I'll always be proud to tell of my hometown's resiliency and to wear the label of a place that is still valiantly rebounding from a thing so horribly inflicted upon them, and my gratitude for nationwide responders' immediacy to our situation still brings me to tears.

I think that for me, though, the prompted rememberance of Katrina is almost like when someone criticizes another's family, or upbringing, or something else literally so close to one's home. If the person deeply tied to it brings it up, it's safe. If it's CNN or a nosy tourist, ummm... Maybe not so much.

"Angel Tree" on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, one of the many wood sculptures created from remaining oaks by artists who donated their time.

So....this is admittedly one of those times when I feel like blogging exactly equals journaling, and there is no real conclusion, but as Anna Nalick sang in Breathe, "If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside me, threatening the life it belongs to."

As for Katrina and #katrina10, well, good riddance. The storm may have flattened our landscape, but it made our hearts stronger.

Monday, August 17, 2015

When I started this post, I was pretty hopped up on steroid medication to get rid of a sinus infection, but it in no way masked my true, unadulterated excitement about letting y'all know that I GOT MARRIED TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE LAST WEEKEND!!!!

It's true, everybody.

And, of course, this really does mean something for everyone, not just the newest Mr. and Mrs. Maricelli (pronounced "mar-sell-ee").

Ok, let's start with me. (What? There are some values to this being my blog, right?) This redhead has found the one whom her soul adores (Song of Solomon 3:4). This may not be earth-shattering to those of you who know me as Girl With Many Friends or who have met Michael and seen us interact. But to those of you who are familiar with Girl Who Wouldn't Go On Third Date or Girl Who Didn't Think Anyone Was Interested in Her in High School, it's a pretty big deal, and I couldn't be happier.

Michael's commitment to the black bean brownie lyfe is now in stone. At the rehearsal dinner, he breezed past the salad, informing me in a carefree tone, "This is a MAN challenge!" His mother later told him, "You have the rest of your life for salads, Michael." With a pained look, he replied, "Trust me, I know." Your prayers are welcome and appreciated.

Nan, much to my surprise, told me a day or two before the wedding that she had "mixed emotions." When I reminded her she'd been trying to marry me off since I hit puberty, she informed me, "I KNOW. And I love Michael and I know yer happy and I'm happy. But I KNOW YOU SINGLE so I feel happy AND sad." It was an incredibly sweet conversation, but she immediately shifted gears when I told her we would come to see her after the wedding. "Aha. I want CAKE."

Both sets of our parents responded with a great balance of emotion and support, and more love than either of us could have asked for. Given that we are not at the tender age of twenty-anything, there has been some chatter about The Big Christmas Adjustment with rotating at holidays and how everyone will feel. Also, my Daddy, with tears streaming down his face during the father/daughter dance, cleared his throat and said, "Well, y'all need to come see us sometime." So of course I cried and pointed out the nearest boat. Emotions. Lots of emotions. Also, I need to be sure to take notes from Michael's mother on things like not letting his waffle get cold before he puts his butter on it, and as I've learned with this lovely sickness, being more sympathetic when he gets something first. (I could've been much nicer.)

My nephew is mainly concerned about two things: sleeping arrangements when we're all at Grammi and Grandpa's, and what he'll end up calling Michael. (I say it should be Uncle Michael, but Michael prefers Uncle Mike, even though we already have one in our family. "It rolls off the tongue," Michael argues.) At any rate, surely we will get those things worked out.

That said, it was a beautiful (though hot) day, and I couldn't be more thrilled to have committed to spending the rest of my life with this one who I know God created to enhance my strengths and better my weaknesses.